


Just the Average Totally Rad Weekend

by dapatty



Series: College Verse [11]
Category: Bandom
Genre: Arcades, Drinking, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-27
Updated: 2014-11-27
Packaged: 2018-02-27 06:17:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2682233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dapatty/pseuds/dapatty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My dearest fiddler prompted: Cheating at skee-ball.  Talking bartenders into making weird cocktails.  Trying to steal traffic cones. A MONTAGE.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just the Average Totally Rad Weekend

**Author's Note:**

  * For [s0ckpupp3t](https://archiveofourown.org/users/s0ckpupp3t/gifts).



“You know, when you said that we should go to the arcade,” Frank said, trying his damndest to just get the skee-ball in the middle already Jesus, “I anticipated more pinball and less of this shit.”

“Frankie,” Dewees said, looking deadly serious. “One simply does not knock the art form that is skee-ball. For one, _it’s skee-ball_.”

“No one has this many feelings about skee-ball,” Frank said, glaring as the traitor ball didn’t score any points at all. “Especially with how much you’ve been cheating.”

“Hey, you’re just mad that my arms are longer than yours and I’m able to do this,” Dewees allowed, taking an armful of balls and stretching on tip toes to place all of them in the center hole. 

“Dude, that nine year old is looking at you like you’re his god,” Frank giggled. 

“And I am a generous and gracious god,” Dewees said solemnly then beamed at the kid as he handed over all his tickets getting a big toothy grin in return.

***

Frank had no idea how they had ended up at this place. Actually, he had no idea how they had let either of them in. Dewees was showing off his navel and his electric blue feather boa wasn’t even enough to distract from it. Frank’s own clothes needed to have been washed two wearings ago and his jeans were hanging on by a thread. The place that they’re in right now, _really nice_. Like nice dinner, French-infused, even the lentils were good kind of nice.

Basically, they were grossly underdressed but no one seems to mind. Apparently, Dewees came here all the time. _Everyone_ including the chef has swung by to say hello. Dewees knew every single one of them and asked about their kids, or their mothers, or their cousins abroad.

Currently, they were sitting at the bar--very nice, granite top, circular, delicate wood accents. Well, more like perching, chairs were fucking tall. Dewees, was charming drinks out of the bartender. Drinks constructed with increasingly elaborate ingredients. The last one had a fried basil garnish. The one before that had a sugared orange rind. The one that the bartender-Ruban who had a damn nice mustache--was making currently, involved delicately sliced cranberries, gin, and in-house created syrups that Ruban was making on a dare. 

“I can’t believe you dared Ruban to make something with cranberries,” Frank said and took a sip then moaned. “Holy god, I don’t even like cranberries and this is like mana of the gods.”

“Right?!” Dewees grinned. “Ruban is a champion of greatness. An _artist._ Ruban, you are an artist. This is so good I could cry.”

“You’re too kind, James,” Ruban tipped an imaginary hat. “And if you like what I can do with cranberries, you should see what I can do with limes.”

“Ruban, I am ready for that jelly,” Dewees said with great reverence. 

Frank has never been so drunk in his entire life. Well, not on drinks so delicious anyway. And he has absolutely NO IDEA how he managed to acquire 5 different bright orange road cones of various sizes. No. Idea.


End file.
